O 30x
by kidoairaku
Summary: [HowlSophie] Inspired by 30 kisses. A oneshot for every theme. Pure fluff.
1. Look over here!

**Disclaimer**: _Howl's Moving Castle_ characters © Diana Wynne Jones. Not mine. TT

**Summary**: Inspired by "30 kisses"—a one-shot for every theme. Pure fluff.

_O-30x_

1. Look over here!

You'd think she would've gotten over it by now—or at least seen _through_ it, but his Sophie, he supposed he should've known, would just _never_ learn with some things. In this particular case, he found it especially endearing that she didn't get the hint. Cute, really.

"Howl," Sophie pattered from the sink, "come take a look at these, would you? Something queer seems to be hanging about the roots."

Ever the diligent worker, Howl thought with some trepidation. You'd think, too, that having been promised a happily-ever-after would whittle away the stubborn woman's unexplainable need to cook and clean herself to a frenzy, but no! Not _his_ Sophie.

Even after hours, she was still pining away at flowers to be gathered, flowers to be tended, flowers to be cut and prepared for sale…always work, work, work. There was no rest for this woman.

Howl sighed.

"Howl!" his ginger-haired devil huffed. "Quickly! I think something's happening!"

No rest indeed.

Despite the moroseness of his thoughts, he crossed the room with long, quick strides and was at Sophie's side in an instant. What could it be that had her so distressed?

The moonlight played in through the window above the sink. White and blue and silver all at once, the light washed him of worries and little thoughts until his full attention settled on the woman beside him and the quandary that creased her brow.

Howl sighed again.

"Let's have a look, shall we?"

He took the greenery in question from her open hands and studied it in the ethereal light, half-distracted by the feather-light pressure of his arm against Sophie's as they stood side by side. All too often, Howl mused, he found himself in situations such as these with nothing to prove for his efforts for contact. Always distracted, always working, always not thinking of _him_, Sophie scarcely noticed his attention.

Another restless breath tumbled from his lips.

"Well?" Sophie demanded.

His glass-green eyes traced the tangle of roots for any oddities that might upset the flower's growth but found none. The only distress he could find was in noting that the flower had not yet bloomed. Odd, since the plant looked to be well past mature…

"I can't seem to find the trouble, Sophie dear," he finally conceded. "It all looks fine and healthy to me. Perhaps those old eyes of yours are playing tricks on you, eh?" His lips twisted in a sardonic grin.

Sophie tossed her hair over her shoulder in a show of vanity and snorted. "I'm quite young again, thankyouverymuch!" she huffed.

"I need no reminder of _that_," Howl muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Sophie snapped back. "Oh bother you. Nevermind. It just won't bloom!" Here, the azure eyes took on a hint of frustration. "I've tried everything. Everything! The blossom simply can't be coaxed from their buds." At this, his lovely maiden frowned. And wait…was that a hint of a pout he saw on those lips?

Far be it from him to keep his damsel disappointed.

He made to look as if he were concentrating on finding some sort of flaw as the words to an opening spell trickled in a low murmur from his mouth. Moonflowers, he recalled, always needed a little bit of encouragement to open their pale, lovely faces. He finished the incantation just as Sophie turned to leave.

"Well, hello!" he chirped. "Would you look at that!"

Sophie snapped around so quickly Howl hardly had time to wonder how she managed to _not_ break her neck. He watched her eyes widen as the bloom peeled open before them, like a cat stretching after a long nap—unfurling fold by fold until a bright white face stared up at them from his cupped hands. As he suspected, it hadn't taken much for Sophie to become completely absorbed in watching his little manufactured phenomenon, so he took the opportunity to steal a little kiss.

"Howl, it's beau—"

There, he swooped in and gave her a quick peck right on the corner of her mouth, where she'd least expect it.

Sophie stiffened and jumped back almost faster than she had turned to him. Her expression would've made _any _sort of rebuke she dished out absolutely worth it.

A laugh bubbled up inside of Howl, and although he tried to hold it back, he couldn't help but chuckle a little at his Sophie.

"Howell Jenkins!" she uttered with indignation, flower forgotten. "I—I can't believe you—you impossible—!" Her cheeks were quickly burning to match that ginger hue she so adamantly claimed as red-gold.

Pleased as he was with the results, Howl predicted he didn't have much time before he was straight in the line of her warpath. Hatter women had terrible tempers, he remembered with a flinch.

He glanced nervously to the side and wracked his brain for some kind of distraction. Master slitherer-outter that he was, it didn't take long. Feigning a startled look up away to the door to the castle, he made to shade his face in embarrassment. Sophie had him backed in a corner, after all, and what with her appearing the fierce lion she was, he molded his part to fit the role.

"Michael! What are you doing here?" he called out to the empty air.

Thank the fates his Sophie was so gullible, and so quick to embarrass!

She did another of her lightning-fast twirls with stricken panic naked on her face.

Gods above, Howl thought with irritation, his seconds' opportunity for escape ticking away. Just _one_ more…

He leaned down again—_just a little one!_

And was pleasantly met with the rosy warmth of an open mouth.

Howl was just as surprised, if not more, than the wide-eyed Sophie. The traces of residual fury melted quickly into shock and—outrage? Howl was wide-eyed as well, if not from shock then from the happy oblivion with which he accepted his fate.

They stared at each other over their locked mouths for a moment as the seconds ticked by and the situation disintegrated into awkward silence.

A shaft of light suddenly pierced the soft darkness, accompanied by the click of an opening door.

"Sophie, have you seen—" A sharp whoosh of air—breath being taken in like a vacuum.

Just like that, Sophie and Howl broke apart as if slapped, both blushing to high heaven. They didn't dare to make eye contact, let alone meet the eyes of their intruder.

The door slammed shut.

"Sorry!" Michael's voice came muffled from the other side. He seemed rather to be in a panic. The hurried shuffle dying away said as much.

Silence descended once more.

"Ah yes," Howl coughed, still not making eye contact. "I expect he was in about that spell…must've been having some trouble. Important matters, you know…goodnight, Sophie!"

Quick as he could, Howl rushed out the door and shut it quietly behind him.

Howl sighed and sagged against the door.

Straightening, he skipped across the courtyard and through the common room, laughing aloud at the wary expression etched in Calcifer's flaming face. He floated up the stairs in a cloud of happy oblivion, feeling warm from the tips of his dyed golden hair to the ends of his toes.

Flopping down on his fluffy mattress, he couldn't help but grin into his blankets and sigh again over his good fortune.

He would have to remember to get Sophie distracted more often.

**Author's Note**: Mindless drabble. Unproofed, unchecked, very raw. A lot more where that came from, too, I'm guessing. Maybe. I loved the book! And of course, this has even less substance if you _haven't_ read the book. Ah, the joy of one-shot fanfiction—completely effortless and nonsensical. No offense meant to people who actually write substantial one-shots. )

Thanks for reading!

-kidoairaku


	2. News

**Disclaimer**: _Howl's Moving Castle_ characters © Diana Wynne Jones. Not mine. T.T

**Summary**: Inspired by "30 kisses"—a one-shot for every theme. Pure fluff.

_O-30x_

2. News

Sophie had an easy grin spread over her face from the moment she woke up to the moment the first words passed her first customer's lips.

"Congratulations, Sophie! What good news indeed!" gushed Mrs. Butcher from down the street.

"I'm sorry?" The grin had already been replaced by a frenzied look of confusion.

"Oh, don't be a prude!" the woman giggled, the dimples on her soft round face pocking the baby-smoothness of her skin. "You and that fine Mr. Jenkins, of course! I've always wondered why it was his name etched on this lovely store's window. Now I know! Oh, you lucky girl you!"

Sophie started. Whatever was going on? "I-I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Butcher." Her mind was failing to grasp the scandalous words the butcher's wife had thrown about. Lucky, her? Her and Howl?

"Oh oh _oh_, my dear!" The woman proceeded to paw at Sophie's arm insistently. "Don't play these games with me! Please tell me, when _is_ the wedding! I simply _must_ know!"

The blood drained from her face in a wave of cold nausea. What in the _world_ was going on! Wedding, her mind echoed in a panic. _Wedding?_

Sophie gathered herself, although she was sure she looked the picture of postmortem glory. Vaguely, she wondered whether there was any red-gold left in that hair of hers. Even a shade of ginger would do. She felt white all over. "I'm afraid I really don't know what you mean, madam," she said pleasantly. "May I interest you in some lovely daisies here?"

Mrs. Butcher seemed to smile knowingly before allowing the subject to fall and Sophie to wrap up some daises and lavender sprigs for her.

Sophie breathed a sigh of relief when the door swung shut behind her. "Really!" she huffed. "People these days! And the gossip that goes around, my goodness!"

Since when had Howl acquired such a respectable reputation, anyways? He was supposed to be invisible, excepting Martha and Fanny, of course. But they wouldn't have gone yammering about her and Howl, would they? Oh, the thought sent cold shivers of dread up her spine.

The jangling bell welcomed another customer into her cozy shop. She decided firmly to let the matter simmer in the back of her mind.

"Oh, Sophie, my dear, where have you been!"

"Mrs. Baker, yes, it's been a while." She offered a warm smile. "Quite lovely to see you again. I've been away all this time, you see." Steady Mrs. Baker. Yes, Sophie could count on _her_ sensible mind. None of this nonsense about _weddings_.

But Mrs. Baker's eyes twinkled. "Is that how you met this wonderful Mr. Jenkins?"

Sophie choked on a breath, sending her into a coughing frenzy.

Mrs. Baker looked concerned, crossing the counter with a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "Are you all right, dear? There's been a dreadful sort of fever going around this year. I hope to heaven you haven't caught it as well!" And then, under her breath, "It certainly wouldn't do for the bride to be ill on her wedding day."

The coughs died down, and Sophie settled herself once more, not liking the raw, scratchy itch that lingered in her throat. The tick seemed to spread up into her mouth and over her face until she felt as if she might have lost control of her face entirely. A forced smile cracked her still countenance.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you, Mrs. Baker. Thank you, really, for your concern," Sophie managed. "What is this about a Mr. Jenkins?" she prodded hesitantly. "I'm afraid I didn't catch you were saying."

Was that a giggle from Mrs. Baker?

"Oh, Mr. Jenkins, yes!" The dainty woman batted her white-gloved hand at the air. "A fine man you've managed to net yourself, my dear! One like him doesn't come along every day, you know!"

Sophie nodded blandly. She swallowed. "T-Thank you, Mrs. Baker." Sophie was, quite honestly, afraid to ask more. "What is it you're looking for today? The spring bouquets are quite lovely, if I may say so."

There was that twinkle in Mrs. Baker's eye again. No one seemed to think it odd that Sophie didn't quite get around to accepting any sort of congratulations.

"Why, yes, Sophie dear," the older woman fell into the distraction with grace. "I do believe I'll have one of those lovely arrangements of yours. You have quite a talent for it, I must say!" She looked away mischievously. "Such talents could be quite handy for large gatherings, don't you think? Oh, you must. Let's have a look at those green things, shall we? Yes, thank you."

Had she been of a lighter disposition, she might've snorted at the tactful allusion to a wedding the old coot had slipped into her yammering. Would no soul spare her this cruel joke?

As soon as Mrs. Baker glided out of the store with her bundle, Sophie slumped onto her glass counter with a faint sigh of distress. Oooh, once she got her hands on that Howl! Her hand fisted over a clump of hair, but she restrained herself from yanking out a happy handful.

Howl had some explaining to do!

When she finished with him, he would be groveling for his pitiful, slither-outing, self-centered—

"Sophie, dear! Whatever is the matter? Why have you got that pretty ginger head of yours on the counter like that? It's not good for the custom, you know."

Oh yes, she thought gaily. There's the repugnant man now! Mr. Jenkins, indeed!

Howl seemed to sense that something was amiss. "…Sophie?" he called hesitantly.

"Howl Jenkins!" she snapped, straightening to her full height (an imposing five-foot-four). "You—!"

"Now Sophie," Howl returned nervously, "what seems to be the problem?"

Sophie scowled, and she couldn't imagine that it improved her looks any. Oh, who was to care! "Howl Jenkins, _where_ is all this nonsense coming from! I've heard it from two respectable ladies already, and I'm not aiming to hear from any more. Did you—"

"Sophie, Sophie!" Howl interrupted dramatically. "What nonsense? Nonsense comes from townspeople all the time. That's the nature of gossip, you know. What have been hearing?"

"It's—"

The jangling bell broke split through the tension and brought another into their midst.

Fanny had swept in, all warm pink skirts and frilly lace trimmings. Tossing her parasol away to a trailing servant, she made an aggressive beeline for Sophie, who deflated at the unexpected appearance of her stepmother.

"Fanny—"

"Oh, Sophie, you naughty, vicious girl!" Somehow, Fanny managed to appear fierce even while standing on the other side of a glass counter with flowers all about her. "And you too, Wizard Howl!" The woman twirled and pointed accusingly to spread the blame. "The lot of you! There's to be a wedding, and I seem the last to know! How could you both! How could you, indeed!"

Sophie remembered her righteous indignation and turned a meaningful glare in the wizard's direction, but he seemed not to notice.

Mouth parted in surprise, Howl seemed to be staring off into another world, dazed with this news that apparently even he had not heard.

"Well, Sophie?" Fanny prompted, tapping her fingers against the crisp glass.

"I-I…" her tongue searched for words to explain, but there was nothing to explain. Even Sophie was clueless as to where this startling news had come from. Gossip run amok. The nerve of these people!

Meanwhile, Howl turned the thought over in his head.

A wedding…

Hmm…

A _wedding_…

With Sophie?

Flowers and drinks and white things and finery…and _marriage_…

He turned the thought over some more.

_Marriage_ to _Sophie_…Sophie Hatter…the ginger-haired mouse he'd pined after ever since that fateful, elusive May Day…

A ceremony…hmm…yes…

A cake and wine and candles…

A ceremony for him and her…

_I do…_and _I do_…

_You may now kiss the bride._

Red-gold hair and rosy cheeks and tinted lips under a sharp nose and brilliant blue eyes…all framed in a vision of pristine white…

_You may now kiss the bride._

Hmm…

Didn't married couples share a room? Share a bed?

Howl, oblivious to the day, grinned like a lovestruck idiot. Market Chipping had been just the right place to come.

**Author's Note:** Installment 2 finished! Thank you for reading! Comments are much appreciated. )

-kidoairaku


	3. Jolt!

**Disclaimer**: _Howl's Moving Castle_ characters © Diana Wynne Jones. Not mine. TT

**Summary**: Inspired by "30 kisses"—a one-shot for every theme. Pure fluff.

_O-30x_

3. Jolt!

Too long a day charming the court had Howl leaning heavily against the door to the castle after entering wearily. Why did the court have to hold so many rules and so many important persons in a so very gaudy a place? Another piece of evidence pointing to the fact that the current king really did not belong on the throne of Ingary. Honestly, even _he_ would make a better monarch.

Howl closed his eyes a moment, reveling in the slow wash of peace that absorbed him back into the castle's homey embrace. Ah yes, back home.

He'd almost fallen asleep against the door when the squawking of raucous laughter tumbled down from upstairs. His head snapped up, for the first time noticing the lack of blue-green glow from the hearth. Where was Calcifer? It wasn't like the fire-demon to go gadding off in the middle of the night. That was Howl's job, after all.

Grumbling about the lack of love in his household, Howl dejectedly dragged himself away from the door and up the stairs, cranky but curious as to the source of this unexpected merrymaking. Sophie usually kept a damper on such things, after all.

By the time he'd gotten up the steep steps, his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and weariness took a backseat for the moment. Casting his eyes from one side of the hallway to the other, he searched for signs of inhabitants.

Ah, there it was. A crack of flickering light under Michael's door.

Michael's door?

Howl thought he felt some dark cloud passing over his heart at the thought of Sophie in another man's room.

Ridiculous, he chided himself. Michael was his apprentice, after all. And quite a few years his junior. Sophie would never even dream of…especially since Michael had Lettie. Or Martha. Whatever her name was.

Howl convinced himself that it was hardly his business anyways.

Another burst of laughter fluttered from under the door to his ears. The sound of chaotic mirth drew him in. How odd to think Sophie must be part of it all…

Cautiously, he opened the door and peered in, not at all expecting the sight that met him.

"S-Sophie?" he called out incredulously. Howl was almost afraid to edge through the door.

Sophie's face, blushing with wine, turned languidly toward him. Only the barest hint of surprise filtered through her intoxicated expression, and Howl felt his blood drain at the thought of his sober, stick-in-the-mud Sophie drunk on aged wine. With Michael. Where was Calcifer? Surely the fire demon had some kind of handle on the situation. Fire demons couldn't drink, after all.

"Hoooowl!" she slurred. "You've been away a while, Mr. Jenkins!" She seemed to think this manner of address quite humorous. A giggle bubbled from her darkened lips. "Come join us!"

"Yes, join, Howl!" Michael's voice trumpeted from behind the bed. An arm shot up with an empty glass. Was Michael the cause of all this?

"What in the world is going on?" he demanded. "And where's Calcifer?"

"Calcifer's out, you slitherer-outter you!" Sophie supplied happily, shooting a conspiratorial wink at Michael. "And because of that! Michael had to unburden himself to me. Women are such trouble, you know?"

The incongruousness of this last statement confused him for a moment before a thought clicked. "Lettie?"

"Martha!" Michael corrected.

"Oh, but have you heard!" Sophie launched herself from the floor to the door faster than Howl's eye could catch. She was three inches in front of his face before he'd even blinked.

"H-Heard?"

Her lips spread in a slow, secret grin, and Howl thought he felt a blush creeping up his neck. Sophie wasn't supposed to even _know_ how to smile like that. It was almost scandalous!

Her hair hung in untidy waves of fire across her narrow shoulders. It was the first time he'd really seen Sophie looking _disheveled_. The sight made him wary.

"Oh, but Michael hasn't told you yet, has he!" Sophie's eyes were wide and bright, the product of drink and childish fancy. Her delight made him crack a lopsided grin.

"No, he hasn't," Howl said patiently.

"Oh, Howl!" She squealed. "They're _getting married!_"

"That's—"

Out of nowhere, Sophie had flung arms around him and kissed him full on the mouth.

As if struck with a jolt of electricity, his mouth burned at the seconds' long contact, his eyes wide with the surprise of it all.

And then the moment skipped away from him. "It's simply _wonderful_, Howl!" She detached herself and twirled back into the room, her skirts swirling around her in a cloud of her contagious happiness.

"A wedding, Howl! A _wedding_! For my _sister_ and _Michael_!"

Her laughter filled the room again, and all he could do was stare bemusedly at the joyous stranger a bottle had made of his steady Sophie.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Shorter. But I meant it to be even shorter…seems I have a tendency to ramble, eh? I'm not sure I got the feeling quite right. So, feedback appreciated. Didn't want to give the impression that Howl was unhappy with an inebriated Sophie, but I think it might've come out that way nonetheless…so I threw in an adverb! Unholy, I know.

Thanks for reading!

-kidoairaku


	4. Our Distance and That Child

**Disclaimer**: _Howl's Moving Castle_ characters © Diana Wynne Jones. Not mine. TT

**Summary**: Inspired by "30 kisses"—a one-shot for every theme. Pure fluff.

_O-30x_

4. Our Distance and That Child

"A holiday?"

Howl shifted his gaze from a travel brochure from his native country. "Yes, Sophie," he murmured thoughtfully. "A holiday in France. Would that suit you, my dear?"

Sophie's eyebrows arced in a contemplative scowl. "Wherever is that? Sounds like a horrid place to go, though. Such a harsh name I've never heard in my life!"

An inner chuckle brought a smile to the wizard's face. _Horrid indeed!_ "It's around where I come from," he explained. "Only a flight away."

This seemed to startle Sophie quite a bit. "Flight?"

Sophie Hatter, native to the town of Market Chipping in the kingdom of Ingary, had never felt such turmoil in her life.

Three parts blind panic and half a part wide-eyed with awe, white knuckled hands gripping the uncomfortable cloth-covered armrests and an angry pout bespoke the half-part regret she had for agreeing to this "holiday."

"It's a plane, darling," Howl said from beside her. He put his hand over hers in an attempt to comfort. "Perfectly safe. Flying is hardly a marvel in my world."

She huffed her indignation. "I'm in a metal tube with skinny metal sticks that you insist upon calling _wings_ when they have no feathers whatsoever." Her eyes squeezed shut to block out the claustrophobia. "Howl, I _refuse_ to call this a holiday! This _France_ had better be worth this wretched contraption and more!"

Howl sighed and said not a word, instead choosing to admire the silver band set with emeralds shining like a crown from his left ring finger. _Like your eyes_, Sophie had told him the day she'd given it to him.

After a particularly harrowing run through customs and the chaos of exiting the airport, Howl found himself an dumbstruck man as Sophie, having burst through the door in an frenzied bail for freedom, goggled openmouthed at the land that surrounded them.

"France…?" Her voice was a mere whisper, all hope and hushed awe.

He nodded. "France."

The wizard had never heard a sigh like hers. "Oh, it's beautiful, Howl."

Howl gazed at the ginger-haired woman who was his wife and thought that he couldn't agree more.

The couple quickly found out there was hardly enough time to absorb it all. Sophie, especially seemed extremely disappointed by this. But being Sophie, she made due with the time she had and proceeded to move through the sights and sounds and feels of Paris as if the world had ended five minutes ago.

"This, Howl!" She pointed and 'ooh'ed and 'ah'ed. "And this!"

And though Howl had always been one to take his time and amble along the beaten path, he'd never felt more exhilarated in his life, fueled by his wife's spastic, happy energy and her insistence upon seeing it _all_. He'd never known Sophie had it in her.

It was during one particularly lovely evening while they were resting a cozy little sidewalk café that he discovered something quite astonishing.

Both he and Sophie had been nibbling away at a light dessert and sipping some heady coffee when he caught her staring past him, entranced. Curious, he shifted to catch her focus in his peripheral vision but finding nothing of interest, turned back to her.

"What has caught your attention, cariad?" The endearment caught even him off-guard, and he took a swig of coffee, playing it down. It still felt awkward to play the married couple.

Sophie reluctantly dragged her eyes away from whatever she'd been looking at. Her fork lifted to her lips with another morsel of apricot tart. "Oh, nothing," she said around her food. But her eyes followed something behind him again.

It annoyed him that he couldn't be her sole focus. The feeling made him itch to find the source of her interest.

Shadows flickered on his right, and, watching as Sophie's gaze marched along with them, Howl turned, determined to assess the situation.

What met his dumbstruck stare was a little boy with black hair and, as he passed under the dim light, glinting blue eyes. The boy skipped alongside a red-haired woman, who chatted animatedly with a dark-haired man with a charming smile. For a moment, Howl's breath caught. What a resemblance this family seemed to bear to his own! At least…the man and the woman. Perhaps. But a child! So ironically like he'd imagine a child of his and Sophie's to appear…

Howl blushed at the thought and drowned some more coffee to pass off his embarrassment. Sophie had never mentioned anything about children, after all.

But there it was. Hadn't she been staring after that child? Perhaps there wasn't a need to say anything at all.

He turned back to her with a lighthearted joke, but it died on his tongue as soon as he saw her expression.

She looked out beyond him again, this time into a night sky decadent with stars. Even then, it seemed her gaze had no focus at all. As if she were looking into herself, or out beyond where the human eye could reach. A little lost, a little dazed, a little hopeful, but mostly a wistful sort of defeat.

"Sophie?" He could hardly hide the waver in his voice, the small little-boy-lost tone he thought he'd left far behind.

For the second time that night, it seemed his wife was reluctant to return the eye contact. The thought of it touched an icy finger to his heart.

She offered him a tired smile and said just as much. Could they go back to the inn? All that sightseeing had made her weary.

Yes, of course, Sophie. _Anything for you_. That, too, was on the tip of his tongue. That, too, died away like a passing breeze.

As they trudged back in a pensive silence, Howl pondered over his beloved's gloominess. _A product of weariness, surely_, his heart hoped. _The beginnings of disappointment in her life_, his head warned. It was all too complicated, the feelings of a woman. He could hardly hope to make anything out with his Sophie's disposition as it were. From high to low in sixty seconds flat. It was unbelievable.

He gazed down at her in the waning moonlight, the passing shadows of streetlamps doing nothing to hide her from his view. Even in darkness, he could imagine every contour of that beautiful face, all angles and sharp relief. A soft kind of relenting sternness, though, in every line that stroked her smile. He wished he could paint it on her now—that glorious smile of hers. Pure kindness, pure strength. Nothing empowered him more.

But her profile was awash in deep thought, a small frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

_What's troubling you, my Sophie?_ The idea of a child? The idea of no such children? The idea of his being a father? If only she would tell him! If only he would ask…if only he weren't such a yellow coward…

If only that boy hadn't come waltzing in like he did, upsetting his fragile Sophie…

If only they hadn't stopped at the old café…

If only they'd never come to France…

If only he hadn't brought up that blasted idea of a holiday…

He frowned as well, continuing to stare at her. If only these things could be kissed away…he'd certainly have no trouble with that.

Howl sighed. He never _really_ liked France anyways. Blasted country of blasted baguettes and fancy French fashion. _He_ certainly could've done without.

If only he hadn't fallen in love with Sophie Hatter…

* * *

**Author's Note: **Rushed, it seems. But ah well. I decided for these one-shots that they would be completely raw. I've not enough experience writing like that. It's always _say it right the first time_ so that my first drafts often end up being my final ones. Rather wretched way of writing, if you ask me. Anyways. The translation was changed from "our distance and that person" to "…that child" for mindless reasons. For one, I believe it is the literal Japanese meaning. For two, jealousy's overrated. XD Not true, I love jealousy. But I'm rather narrow-minded with these themes. Not entirely the most creative person. Hum. Anyways, throw some thoughts at me, if you'd like. Always appreciated.

Thanks for reading!

-kidoairaku


End file.
